


Get Me Out of My Mind

by fictionalaspect



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 20-30 Minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's engine makes a clanging noise sixteen miles into his and Spencer's epic, bonding journey of self-discovery and avoidance of family birthday parties.</p><p>"Um," Brendon says.</p><p>The clanging noise gets louder.</p><p>"Shit," Spencer says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Me Out of My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been podficced by the lovely [reena_jenkins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins) over [here! ](http://reena-jenkins.livejournal.com/109962.html) :D

The first thing that Brendon does when he gets home is open up his Livejournal and make a post that says _I'm in a band!!! yea what now motherfuckers!_

Then he deletes it, because the only people who actually read his Livejournal are like, his cousins in Tucson and a couple people at school and a weird guy from who-knows-where, who always comments on shit but Brendon doesn't actually know who he is, so he never responds.

But the point is, he made the entry.

Brendon is in a _band._ He can do shit like that on the Internet now.

—

Brendon's band consists of Brent, one skinny kid named Ryan who has gauged ears and carries a notebook around in his messenger bag, and a drummer named Spencer who is super fucking hot but Brendon's not actually going there, because that way lies madness.

Also, it's not his band. Brendon's just the keyboard player. It's Ryan's band, because Ryan sings and plays guitar and while Brendon is well aware that he also sings and plays guitar, he feels like suggesting that they perhaps should do it _together_ is a bit much after just one practice. Brendon is learning about this self-restraint thing. He is a self-restraint _master._

He also thinks he might have sweated on Spencer's palm when they shook hands.

Just a little bit.

—

The weird thing about Spencer and Ryan is that Brendon never actually told them where he works. He's met them exactly three times, at practice, and then all of a sudden they start showing up at the Smoothie Hut, waltzing in through the door like this is a normal and natural part of being a band, this whole stalking-your-new-members thing.

"Hey," Brendon says, leaning on the counter. His awful banana-yellow hat is pulled down low over his face, because it's easier to pretend he doesn't know people that way.

"Yo," Ryan says, nodding at him. "Are you busy?"

Brendon looks around the empty room.

"Yes," Brendon says, nodding solemnly.

"Cool," Ryan says. "I brought some lyrics."

"Do we get free smoothies?" Spencer says.

—

"If my boss comes in here, you paid for these," Brendon says, pushing them across the counter.

"If your boss comes in here I'll tell him you're his most valuable employee," Spencer says, nodding firmly. "You pulled our chairs out for us and everything. We even watched you help an old lady across the street."

"An old lady with cancer," Ryan chimes in, emotionless. "In a wheelchair. With a puppy."

"That might be pushing it," Brendon says.

—

"Ryan has to go to work," Spencer says, after waiting his turn with all of Brendon's other customers. It always gets busy right before he's ready to go off his shift. It's stupid. "When are you off?"

"Six," Brendon says. "We work split-shifts on the weekends."

"Did you drive?" Spencer says. Brendon nods, already calculating the order of the family who just walked in behind Spencer. Three kids, so—three kiddie sized cups? Except the oldest one is like eleven, so she'll probably want a bigger one. Except there's no way to tell _how_ big. Christ. Kids these days.

(Brendon has been drinking the Supreme size since he was twelve, but Brendon is also a lot more enthusiastic about sugary fruit drinks than most of the general populace, he feels.)

"So cool, can I catch a ride back with you?" Spencer says, and Brendon blinks. "What?" he says.

"Ryan has to go to work," Spencer says. "But we could hang out. If you want. Or I could just sucker you into driving me home, that works too."

"I drive a purple mini-van," Brendon says, before his mouth catches up with him.

"I know you do," Spencer says, grinning at him. "It's hot."

"Excuse me," the lady behind Spencer says, impatiently. " _Excuse me_?"

"'l'll drive you home," Brendon says, and tries to focus on the aggravated lady's order and her three adorable (annoying) children and what size smoothies they want in what combination. He does not focus on the way Spencer's jeans cling to his hips when he turns away from Brendon and goes to tell Ryan the news.

—

"Sorry I suckered you into this," Spencer says, when they're walking out the front door of the Smoothie Hut. "My sisters are having a birthday party today. I really didn't want to go home."

"It's okay," Brendon says. He ignores the twist in his gut.

"But I thought we could hang out," Spencer says. "You know. Bond."

"Bonding is cool," Brendon agrees, very casually. He is a master of casual. "You want to call Brent up?"

"I see Brent all the time," Spencer says, flashing him a smile. "Let's just go drive around. Hang out. You have a CD player in the van?"

"If you call this a CD player," Brendon says, holding up the portable one that he's rigged to his ancient tape deck. "You have to hold it on your lap, or else it will skip."

"I can do that," Spencer says, sliding into the passenger seat and taking it out of Brendon's hand.

—

Brendon's engine makes a clanging noise sixteen miles into his and Spencer's epic bonding journey of self-discovery and avoidance of family birthday parties.

"Um," Brendon says.

The clanging noise gets louder.

"Shit," Spencer says.

—

The tow-truck guy is totally nice and awesome and drops them off within walking distance of their houses.

Or, well. Within walking distance of Spencer's house, anyway.

"My parents will give you a ride home," Spencer says. "No sweat."

"Cool," Brendon says. His parents are probably already freaking out about how their son and his trusty purple minivan are not home yet. They're probably somewhere between 'anger' and 'concern' and about three hours away from 'calling the cops' but Brendon is not overly worried. Spencer is hot, and his parents could use a little shaking up every once in a while. They're going to have to get used to Brendon's rock star lifestyle now that he's in a band.

"Let's go this way," Spencer says, and points towards a winding path heading into the fake-woods-that-the-developers-planted-to-give-the-neighborhood-atmosphere. "It's a shortcut."

"Are you a serial killer?" Brendon says, because he feels like he should check. Just in case. The pretty ones are always dangerous.

"What?" Spencer says.

"That's kind of a serial killer thing to say," Brendon says. " 'Over there, into those creepy trees, it's totally a shortcut!' to _death_ ," Brendon says, dropping into his normal voice for the last bit.

Spencer grins at him, and bumps Brendon's shoulder with his shoulder. He has to lean down a little to do it.

"You're the one who keeps candy in his purple mini-van," Spencer says.

—

"So do you have a girlfriend?" Spencer says, as they're walking along. Brendon knows he's just making conversation, but it makes his heart start fluttering in his chest, all the same. _Go away_ , Brendon thinks, to the heart-flutters. And the way his hands suddenly feel clammy, stuffed into his back pockets. _Shut up, go away._

"No," Brendon says, shrugging. "You?"

"Nah," Spencer says. "I'm not really the girlfriend type."

"Love 'em and leave 'em?" Brendon says, in a Sean Connery accent that's so terrible as to be mostly unrecognizable.

"That's Ryan," Spence says, shooting Brendon another one of those cautious, sharp-edged grins. "But no. I'm actually gay."

"Oh," Brendon says, and then trips over his own feet. He goes sprawling forward. His cheek hits the ground with a sick thump.

"Ow," Brendon says. It comes out muffled.

"Dude, are you okay?" Spencer says, leaning down. "Wait, can I touch you? Is this a thing? I just figured. If you're going to be in the band. Um."

"Mrrmff," Brendon says, into the dirt. He picks himself up carefully. His cheeks feel kind of weird and gravelly. "No," Brendon says, and takes Spencer's offered hand. "It's cool. Sorry. I'm just a klutz."

"You sure?" Spencer says. "Because if it's not—"

"If it's not, I would be running away right now," Brendon points out, still trying to rid his skin of all the dirt he managed to accumulate on the way down. "Or like. Punching you, or something. Professing my manly virility against your homosexual ways."

"Manly virility, huh?" Spencer says.

"It's a bonus feature," Brendon says. "Comes with the Brendon Urie Special Deluxe Edition."

"And you're...?"

"Not the special deluxe edition," Brendon says. "Dude, seriously, do I have grass in my hair?"

—

Spencer continues talking during the rest of the way home.

 _Spencer likes boys,_ Brendon's brain tells him. _Spencer likes boys, Spencer LIKES boys, Spencer likes BOYS holy crap wait maybe I shouldn't say 'holy' when thinking gay thoughts except that's kind of all the time so fuck it seriously though Spencer likes boys what._

_What._

_What._

Brendon responds when appropriate.

—

"I think the carnage is over," Spencer says, peering carefully down his driveway. Six half-deflated green balloons still float from his mailbox, drooping sadly in the non-existent wind. "You want to chance it?"

"You're the boss," Brendon says. He follows Spencer inside.

Spencer's parents are nice, and welcoming, and offer to let Brendon use their phone. Brendon uses their phone, gets yelled at, hands it over to Spencer's mom when his parents ask to speak to Spencer's parents to make sure Brendon isn't in some opium den of sin having pre-marital sex and drinking tequila, and somehow by the time Ginger (seriously, Spencer's mom has the best name, Brendon is thinking about how Panic! needs to write a song about a girl named Ginger already, except that's Spencer's mom, so maybe it would be weird) hangs up, it has been decided by the powers that be that Brendon is staying over.

"It's just so late," Ginger says. "I figured you boys wouldn't mind."

"Do you mind?" Spencer says, raising an eyebrow at Brendon. Like he's waiting for Brendon to say he does, despite Brendon's protestations to the contrary and the fact that he'd let Spencer hold his hand when he pulled him up and also the fact that Brendon has a giant creepy crush on Spencer that is possibly visible from outer space except for how Spencer seems to be too dense to notice.

"Only if you hog the remote control," Brendon says. "Then I mind."

—

It's already ten-thirty, so Ginger asks them politely if they wouldn't mind hanging out upstairs so she and Spencer's father (Jeff, Brendon remembers, which isn't nearly as cool a name as Ginger) can watch TV in the lounge and have some Adult Time.

"Banished again," Spencer says, mock-sadly. Ginger ruffles his hair as he walks by. "I hurt because I love," Ginger says, and Brendon sort of wonders if maybe Ginger and Jeff might adopt him if he asks nicely.

Except then he and Spencer would be step-brothers.

So maybe not.

—

"What do you want to do?" Spencer says, once he's sat down on his bed and is kicking his shoes off. "I have a PS2."

"Exploding things are cool," Brendon nods. He's been in Spencer's grandmother's basement before, but he's never been in Spencer's house. He's never been in Spencer's room. It's an ungodly mess, which is weirdly comforting. It looks a lot like Brendon's.

They play video games for a while.

Brendon decides to just go for it.

(He has almost nothing to lose except, oh, everything, but he's pretty sure this whole night is a weird gift from a friendly god or something and Brendon is damned if he's going to let it pass by without so much as a 'hey, I tried.' Brendon is _living in the moment_ , okay? This is the beginning of his new rock star lifestyle. Except his rock-star lifestyle might come to a sudden and abrupt end once he opens his mouth, but Brendon is very carefully not thinking about that.)

"So there's no way this isn't going to sound like a come on," Brendon says.

In retrospect, not a great opener.

Also a lie.

"Um. What?" Spencer says, pausing the game.

"I am not entirely straight," Brendon says.

"Okay," Spencer says, blinking at him.

"Just saying," Brendon says, after a long, long, _long_ awkward pause. "Just. Felt like sharing."

"Right," Spencer says.

"You seemed freaked out," Brendon says. "I just wanted you to know." He frowns at the screen, mashing on the circle button for dear life. Those circle-square-x combos always fuck him over.

Spencer pauses the game again.

"Aren't you Mormon?" Spencer says, after a beat. He sounds confused, like Brendon just came out of left field and threw his whole world-view out of whack, or something.

"Only by association," Brendon says.

"Have you ever even kissed a guy?" Spencer says, frowning deeper at Brendon.

This is not how Brendon intended this conversation to go.

"No," Brendon says. "Does it matter?"

"...No," Spencer says, eventually, shaking his head. "I guess not."

"Okay then," Brendon says, and unpauses the game again.

—

They're down to the 'sleeping uncomfortably on Spencer's floor' part of the evening before Spencer says quietly, "Neither have I."

"Oh," Brendon says, because that seems...weird. Spencer is hot. There is no reason Spencer should not be going out and getting kisses from all available hot guys who are into that.

"I didn't mean to be a dick earlier," Spencer says. Brendon blinks into the semi-darkness. "You just kind of threw me for a loop."

"I do that to people," Brendon agrees. "It's a talent."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "You want to make out?"

"What?" Brendon says, sitting upright and peering at Spencer. There is no way this is going to be that easy. Not after Spencer's reaction earlier. "What?" Brendon says again.

"For science," Spencer says, but his voice is a little weird around the edges. Like he's scared.

 _It's okay_ , Brendon thinks. _It's okay. I'm scared too._

"What about the band?" Brendon says, even though that's probably the last thing he should be bringing up right now.

"Every great band needs some homosexual tension," Spencer says. "It fuels the creative fire."

"Right," Brendon says. "Of course."

"We don't have to," Spencer says, once the silence stretches out around them. "It was just an idea."

Brendon can't think of anything to say to that. He fumbles himself up on Spencer's bed, instead, hitting his ankle on the way up and swearing.

"Ssshh," Spencer hisses, his voice warmer now, more full of life. "Dude. You're going to wake my parents up."

"Sorry," Brendon says. Spencer's smile is this little slice of white in the darkness. Brendon takes a deep, deep breath, and leans in and misses.

"That's my ear," Spencer mumbles, and then he's turning his head and Brendon tries again and overbalances. He lands on top of Spencer. He feels Spencer's ribcage shake with suppressed laughter.

"You're kind of bad at this," Spencer whispers, and then—

— _oh wow_ , Brendon thinks, _oh, oh wow_ —

—they're kissing.

Spencer's mouth is soft. And wet. And good at kissing.

Brendon is a fan.

"Still cool?" Spencer mumbles, once they pull away for air. "Still cool," Brendon agrees. The second kiss is a little more firm, a little less hesitant. Spencer's tongue flicks at the seam of Brendon's lips. Brendon opens for him, and Spencer makes this muffled noise into Brendon's mouth, soft and low.

 _Fuck_ , Brendon thinks. _Fuck, this is awesome._

"Still gay?" Spencer says, the next time they pull away. He licks at the seam of his lips.

"Still pretty gay," Brendon confirms. He wants to let his weight rest on Spencer, wants to touch him while they're kissing, but he feels like that might be pushing things. Brendon doesn't want to push things. He just wants to do this forever, or at least until the sun comes up.

"You?" Brendon says, as they're leaning in back in.

"I don't know," Spencer says, biting gently at Brendon's bottom lip. "I think we should keep testing the theory. I'm not sure yet."

"Let it never be said that I am not a man in pursuit of science," Brendon says.

—

They make out until Brendon has to go jerk off in the bathroom.

"Um," Brendon says, and Spencer nods at him. He's flushed all the way down to his collarbone. They're still wearing clothing, mostly, but Spencer's shirt is rucked up and there's all this soft skin that Brendon can't help skimming his fingertips over. Brendon feels lame for being this trigger-happy but he's also going to come like, _really soon_ if Spencer doesn't stop biting down on his lower lip and doing that thing with his hips.

"You can just," Spencer says, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Uh. Bathroom. If you need to. And I'll just—"

"Yeah," Brendon says, nodding. His erection bobs out in front of him when he stands up. Spencer still looks dazed. Brendon tries to subtly tuck himself into his waistband so he won't scar any members of Spencer's household. He shakes his shoulders out a little, and gets ready to feign sleepiness in the hallway in case he runs into anyone.

"Wait," Spencer says, suddenly. He leans up and kisses Brendon again, almost feverishly. Brendon leans into it until Spencer breaks the kiss, panting.

"Okay, now go," Spencer mutters, and Brendon can see Spencer's hand resting on his stomach, and Brendon needs to leave _now_ before they accidentally have sex. Brendon is pretty sure that watching Spencer come counts as sex.

Oh god, watching Spencer _come_.

He leaves the room.

Spencer's bathroom is down the hallway from his room. Brendon tiptoes. His dick is absolutely fucking aching. This is torture. This is also not how Brendon thought he'd been spending the evening, but he's really not complaining.

 _I am jerking off in Spencer's bathroom_ , Brendon thinks, once he's managed to make it to the door. He leans up against the shower stall, grabbing toilet paper and balling it up with one hand while the other hand gets down to business.

Brendon spits on his hand and he closes his eyes and he thinks about Spencer coming again and this time he doesn't actually try to blunt the thought, sees it in all of his brain-image-technicolor glory. Sees the flush on Spencer's chest, and on his cheeks, and the way he tilts his head back when something particularly nice happens, and the way his mouth falls open when Brendon sucks at the thin skin on the side of his neck.

The whole thing takes about two minutes.

 _I totally just jerked off in Spencer's bathroom_ , Brendon thinks, again, as he's cleaning himself up. _Weird._

_—_

"Hey," Brendon whispers, once he's carefully opened Spencer's door and confirmed that Spencer is in possession of all of his clothing and also no longer having an orgasm.

"Hey," Spencer says. He's sitting up in bed, looking sated. He smiles when he sees Brendon.

"We're cool, right?" Spencer says, as Brendon's sitting back down on his own lump of blankets on Spencer's floor. "No freak-outs? We're good?"

"Yeah," Brendon says, going up on his knees to kiss Spencer because damn, why the hell not? The Gods of Brendon are apparently being generous today, and Brendon is going to take everything they want to offer him.

Spencer tips his head up in response. The kiss is soft and sweet, slick around the edges.

"We're cool," Brendon whispers, and Spencer's answering smile is a slice of happiness in the dark.  



End file.
